


New Home

by hayvocado



Series: Me & the Boys [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, I'm kind of just tagging as I go, Implied Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:29:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6306598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayvocado/pseuds/hayvocado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Winchesters save you, they have a bit of explaining to do, and then they plan on taking you home with them and taking care of you. Nothing bad should ever happen again...</p><p>Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maybe a Little Bad

**Author's Note:**

> you guys have been super duper kind about me not being around and I love you all dearly for it oh my gosh thank you guys <333

The Impala grumbles beneath you, and you can feel her vibrations in the soles of your feet. Your gaze is directed out the window, and you watch as blurs of green and brown whiz past the glass. The shadowy woods look so still, and you don't think you've ever felt this peaceful.

"So, Y/N?" Sam's voice pipes up from the front seat, and you look towards him.

"Hm?"

"Well, before we get back to our-" he pauses, and he and Dean share a furtive glance "- _place_ , there's a few things we've gotta talk about."

You sit up a little straighter, preparing yourself for them to tell you that you're going to end up living in a ditch behind their house. You raise a brow as Dean catches your eyes in the rearview mirror.

"It's nothing too bad, we swear." Dean halfheartedly laughs, trying to put you at ease.

"Well," Sam tilts his head to the side as if he's weighing the odds of something. "Maybe a little bad."

You roll your eyes, kind of fed up with their tiptoeing around the topic. "You guys aren't serial killers or something, are you?" The uneasy silence that fills the car makes your eyes widen slightly.

 _Okay, I did not expect that_. You glance up into the rearview mirror to find Dean nervously eyeing you, awaiting your reaction. You pop your lips and lean back against the door. "Welp. As long as I'm not on your list I won't tell anyone."

At that Sam turns towards you, eyes round. "Seriously?" You nod slowly. "You're just gonna let a couple of serial killers take you home?" You nod again. "Unbelievable." He throws his hands up and let's them fall onto his lap loudly.

Dean chuckles from the driver's seat, and another quick glance is thrown your way. The look in his eyes is less 'she's gonna hate this', and more 'I'm gonna hate explaining this'.

"Well, to start with, we aren't serial killers-"

"Technically," Sam cuts in.

"Okay, so technically we aren't serial killers." Dean corrects himself with an eye roll and pulls the impala over to the side of the road. "Okay, so you might not really like what we're gonna say, or even really believe it, to be frank." He turns in his seat and looks at you expectantly, waiting for confirmation that he can go on.

"Seriously, as long as you aren't Mike Number 2 and 3, it's not going to be a big deal. Swear on it." You trace an 'X' over your heart with your finger.

Dean stares back at you, not sure if he should be surprised at your willingness to literally let whatever happen to you, so long as you weren't in an environment like the one you'd just come from. He felt kind of glad that he got you out of the situation, and proud of you for recognizing and acknowledging the fact that it sucked so much. Then again, the amount of anger he held for Mike did quite a bit to snuff out that little warm spot.

"No, nothing like that. It's just..." He shares a helpless glance with Sam and you sigh exasperatedly, fed up with the stalling. "It's really hard to explain. It's one of those things you kind of have to see to believe." He smiles sheepishly at you and you try to ignore the fact that such an oversized man could be so adorable.

"Oh my god, show me, then." You sigh and stare expectantly at the boys, waiting for _someone_  to show you _something_.

Dean just nods curtly, and pulls back onto the road. He picks up speed again, and the car falls into a not-so-comfortable silence.

You aren't exactly getting scared, but at the same time, your mind isn't very at ease. An unpleasant tugging feeling is yanking at your stomach. Even though you have little to no instinct, something tells you that stuff was going to get at least a little hectic.

But hey, at least they aren't serial killers.

Technically.

 


	2. Cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so not serial killers? Just very oversized, bickery, brothers. You can deal with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i'm so sorry i've been awol i wrote this a while ago but it felt rly short and filler-y so sorry this is all you get. i'll try not to suck so muh next chapter pls don't hate me.

The Impala rolls up outside of a seedy motel, and you can’t help but raise a brow. The outside of the building has creepy stains practically dripping down the walls. There's a small group of men towards the back exit, and you’re more than certain that those aren't cigarettes that they’re smoking. Sam sees your shocked expression and smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah, we don't get much pay,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his duffle bag off of the floor between his feet.

“I’d think the government would appreciate your crime-busting a bit more,” you shrug and grab up your own bag, exiting the car.

You miss the wide-eyed glances that the brothers exchange. You also miss the tiny non-verbal argument that they have over who has to break it to you.

They lead you to one of the rooms along the longer side of the L shaped building, the door reading 309. When you enter, you look around at the tiny room, and immediately have second thoughts. They said that they aren't technically serial killers. Maybe they just haven't hit three kills yet. Your stomach drops down to your toes.

“What d’you think?” Dean asks, clapping a hand on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin, and he backs off, not wanting to spook you any further. “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he mumbles. The smaller of the lumberjack brothers moves into the small kitchen--more accurately, a table, a refrigerator, and a sink--and tosses his bag onto one of the wobbly chairs.

“S’fine. I’m just a bit jumpy, I guess.” You shrug jerkily. “Real freedom feels a little chaotic for me. It feels a little fake, y’know? Like he’s gonna jump out and drag me back.” You glance around the small room again, and move towards the couch, setting your bag down near the side table.

Dean looks at you sympathetically and saunters over to the fridge. He grabs two beers and plops down next to you on the couch, handing you one.

“You could use it,” he says.

“Thanks.”

You both drink your beers in silence, staring at nothing, thinking about everything. It feels pretty surreal to you--and you aren't one to misuse the word. Everything seemed floaty and unreal, as if your alarm clock would wake you up, and you’d be back in your shitty apartment. Back with Mike.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Sam jostles his gigantic frame through the door, precariously balancing a bucket of ice and his bag in one arm. You hop up and grab his bag from him, trying to ease his load.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he grunts out. You hum in reply.

Once everything is settled and everyone has a drink, you look between the brothers expectantly. They both look uncomfortable. They have something to say but they’re taking an eternity and a half to say it.

“Okay, do you guys want me to start?” You blurt out suddenly. They both look at you in confusion, and you sigh. Standing up and leaning against the side of the couch, you stare at them. When they say nothing, you clear your throat loudly and stand up straighter.

“Hi. I’m Y/F/N. I’m twenty four years old, I’m a highschool drop out, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and zesty people.” You finish off with a dramatic now. Gesturing widely at the boys, encouraging them to go as well. “Your turn.”

Dean looks at Sam, and the latter nods his head in a manner that could only be read as ‘you first’. Dean clears his throat loudly and looks towards you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius. I also enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach. Oh!” He leans forward as if he’d forgotten something. “I like frisky women too.” He delivers a flirty wink, and you can't help but giggle.

“Thank you for your candor, Mr. Winchester.” You nod in a faux professional manner, and turn to Sam. “And you, sir?”

Sam blushes slightly; the embarrassed friend that everyone's peer pressuring to sing karaoke. “Alright, okay.” He looks up at the ceiling, thinking about what he’s to say. “My name is Sam Winchester. I like road trips, reading-”

“Lame!” Dean cuts in, and you can't help but laugh. Sam just rolls his eyes, and continues.

“-and I am not a serial killer.”

“Technically,” you and Dean say at the same time. All three of you bust out into snorty laughter; not unlike the glee you’d shared outside of your apartment building, not even two hours ago. When the laughter dies down a bit, you look at the boys, scrutinizing them.

“So… How exactly do Feds end up becoming technically-not-serial-killers?” You didn't mean to make things awkward, but you kind of sort of just did. Really well. Nice going, Y/N.

“Well, we aren't exactly Feds.” Dean mumbles before taking a swig of his beer. He's started to shifting around in his chair and a mask of confusion falls across your face.

“But you used to be?” You ask.

Sam lifts a hand, palm down, and shakes it a bit. He starts making an ehhh sound. “No, not exactly.”

“So… Your badges? They're fake?” You ask. There isn't a hint of judgement in your voice, just pure confusion and curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then. So what do you actually do? Besides not serial killing.” You cross your arms again, and at this point you're too lost to really even care that they'd lied. You just want to know what you're getting yourself into.

Dean sets his beer down on the table, and wipes his clammy hands across his jeans. He looks at Sam, and they engage in yet another one of their silent discussions. When Dean looks back towards you, he looks scared. Like when a kid has to tell his mom that he was the one that broke into the cookie jar.

“Well,” he begins, face scrunched up. His nose wrinkles adorably, and his freckles stand out even more. “Y’know X Files?” You nod, eyes narrowed, unsure of where he's going with this. “We kinda do that. But it's real.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.” When he doesn't respond, your eyes widen. Sam has the same expression on his face. “Woah, woah, woah.” You close your eyes and wave your hands in the air in front of your face. “X Files…” You trail off and stare at them, waiting for one of them to start laughing and yell ‘Gotcha!’. When you finally realize that you're not on the latest episode of Punk’d, your mouth drops open.

“So you're like…” You gesture towards Sam first, and then Dean. “Mulder and Scully? Finding all the paranormal baddies in the world and beating them up?” Dean huffs a laugh and shakes his head, which creates another tidal wave of confusion.

“No way. He's Scully.”

“I’m not Scully. You're Scully.”

“Nah, I’m Mulder. You’re a redheaded woman.” Dean concludes and leans back in his seat. He still looks kind of tense, but you can tell that he's a little more in his element. Sarcastic perfume sprayed over a truthful stink-bomb. Nice.

There's a few minutes of silence while you think over all of the things that they've said, and how it kind of makes sense now. They aren't serial killers because they kill non-human things, plus it's for a good cause. They're like… The defenders of the earth. Holy shit, they're the Avengers. You smile to yourself and glance back up at them to see them staring at you. Probably still think I'm insane.

“Well?” Dean asks, hope tinging his words.

“Cool,” you state simply. They both just stare at you, mouths gaping. “What?”

“‘Cool’? I did not think it would be that easy.” Sam exclaims, tossing his hands up and letting them slap back into his lap. Dean looks just as surprised, and you laugh a bit. You smirk a little, and shrug, turning to toss out your now-empty beer bottle.

“I've seen weirder.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u know which episode literally half of this is referencing, u win cas' heart.


	3. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the boys go out for drinks to try and get to know each other better and things take a--none too unpleasant--turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why am I??? such a trash can??? I don't update for 3.7 million years and I supply you all with a filler. I'm terrible I know I just hope this doesn't suck too bad.

You and Sam are sitting in a booth in the back of the bar, waiting for Dean to come back with your drinks. Sam’s been sharing stories about some of the “X-Filesy shit” that they've done over the years, and your respect for these guys skyrockets.

_First they save my life, then I find out that they spend their lives saving even more lives. How did I get so lucky?_

Dean returns, three beers in hand, and a big grin in place. You raise an eyebrow questioningly at his boyish excitement. Sam also looks to be wondering about his brother.

“I think the bartender was hitting on me,” he says, stage whispering. You laugh and nod your head.

“I’m pretty sure you’re right.” You say, a smile in place.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. She was staring over here.” His eyes widen and he turns to look over his shoulder at her. She’s working with another customer, but when she feels his eyes on her, she turns, winks, and then goes back to the conversation as if nothing even happened.

Dean turns back around to the table, a cocky smile on his face. “I mean, why wouldn't she?” Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You giggle and nudge Dean’s knee with your own.

“Go get her. Ask her when her shift is over.”

He looks surprised. “Nah, it’s cool. We’re meant to be convincing you that we really aren't serial killers.” You roll your eyes and stand up, grabbing your beer and walking over to the bar again. You lean against the counter, waiting for her to finish up her conversation before she turns to you.

“How can I help you, cutie?” She smiles brightly. You aren't all that used to compliments so you blush modestly but quickly regain your confidence.

“Alrighty, well my friend over there, Dean,” you gesture with your head to the table that the boys are at, and her eyes shift to them. She giggles, and when you turn around, you see Dean wiping his mouth and Sam laughing. The idiot spilt his beer. You scoff and refocus your attention on the brunette before you. “Well that dork wants to ask you when your shift is over.” You lay on the charm, smiling sweetly at her.

She--her nametag says Maddi--grabs a napkin and a pen from her apron. She quickly scribbles down her number, and slides it towards you. “I actually wanted _you_ to have my number. I get off at twelve.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She winks at you and you nearly choke on your own spit. “Uh, yeah, um, uh, thanks,” you splutter and quickly walk back over to the table, head down, attempting to hide your blush. When you finally slide into the booth, you refuse to look at the boys, and you try as hard as possible to hide behind your hair.

“Well?” Dean asks hopefully.

“Um, yeah, so uh,” you glance back to the bar and see that Maddi’s currently talking to another customer. Your eyes shoot up to Dean’s and you cough uncomfortably. “Yeah she uh gave me her number.” You mumble.

“Yeah? Give it here.” He reaches a hand out and you squint at him, wrinkling your nose a bit.

“It was uh, notforyou.” You squeeze it all into one breath as another blush takes over. Sam chokes on his beer and starts laughing, holding onto the edge of the table to keep himself from falling out of his seat. “Shut up, jerk!” You slide down and cross your arms.

Dean looks genuinely confused as he looks back and forth between your fiery cheeks and Sam’s teary eyes. “Huh?”

Sam starts wiping at the tears gathering under his eyes and lays a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, buddy,” he breathes out in between laughs. You shoot a foot out to catch him in the shin. “Ow!”

“Someone please tell me what’s happening.” Dean’s brow is furrowed and his pouty lips are downturned at the corners. Aw man.

“Yeah, uh, she’s gay.” You mumble. Speaking above a mumble is pretty much impossible at this point. Sam snorts, and you huff and throw the salt shaker at him. “Shut up!”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean looks a bit upset, and then kind of interested, and then the man starts giggling, like, honest to god schoolgirl titters. “She hit on you?” You cringe and hold up the wrinkled napkin in your hand. “She gave you her number? This is the best thing ever.” His body starts shaking with laughter and you slide even further down eyes narrowed.

“I hate you both.”

“You love us.” They say in unison.

****

When midnight rolls around, you and the boys have completely forgotten about Maddi. You’re all in the middle of a conversation about DC vs. Marvel Superheroes (“I swear to God, Dean, if you say that Batman could beat Black Widow one more time-” “Okay but hear me out, he has so many gadgets and gizmos, she’d be done before it even started!” “Okay but Natasha Romanov has been training to be an assassin since grade school! In Russia, I might add.”) when the petite bartender comes up.

At first you don't notice because you’re wildly gesticulating and slurring about the Widow and how “mcfucking amazing” she is. The boys see Maddi walk up behind you, and they just bite back tiny giggles and smiles as she tries to keep her own laughs quiet.

“If anyone could stand a chance against Natalia Fucking Romanova, it’s fuckin’-”

“Bucky Fucking Barnes?” Maddi supplies.

“Yes!” You clap your hands together as if you’ve just made the most amazing observation and sit back in your seat, smug. It takes a moment for your inebriated brain to realize that you hadn't said that. You nearly snap your neck, whipping around to find Maddi standing there.

“A well-cultured woman, I see,” she says, sliding into the seat next to you. She has a smirk on her face as she sets her forearms on the table. Her eyes never leave yours. “I will say that Rogers could take her out if he really, and I mean _really_ wanted.” The conversation flow immediately drains the blush from your cheeks and you scoff.

“That cinnamon roll is too old-school to lay a finger on her. Damned Boy Scout.” You take another sip of your beer, smiling at the table’s newest addition.

Dean’s eyes are wide as he watches the two of you banter back and forth. Eventually he just has to cut in. “Okay, but you can't honestly tell me that the Avengers are better than Superman?”

You and Maddi stare at him, and then slowly turn to each other. You both burst out laughing, and Sam does the same (not because he gets why you’re doing it, but because of the stupid look on his brother’s face).

“You mean the alien who’s afraid of a rock?” Maddi gasps out, and you laugh even harder.

“St. Patrick’s day must be a pain in the ass for him.” Another round of uproarious laughter.

Dean’s face turns slightly pink as he scoffs and tries to brush off the embarrassment of him getting schooled on superheroes by two girls. “Whatever,” he mutters, pissy.

Sam nudges his brother and leans in close to whisper, “Lighten up, they’re getting along.” He and Dean turn to see you and Maddi intensely discussing conspiracies surrounding Pietro Maximoff, and your shared hatred for Alexander “Lemon Fucker” Pierce. The names go right over the boys’ heads, but they’re happy for the newly formed relationship between you and Maddi. 

She's the first friend you've made--outside of the boys, of course--since you started dating He Who Shall Not Be Named.

It felt nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't bad I just really needed to get a chapter out and I kind of wanted to build up all of that cool bonding stuff. Next chapter will be a little more with Maddi but we'll get into the nitty gritty stuff, I promise ❤️❤️


	4. Don't I Know How to Pick 'Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night takes a bit of a turn, but nothing a couple of lumberjacks, an angry drunk girl and a bottle of whiskey can't handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!! Hope this isn't too shitty

It's nearly two thirty when you, Maddi, and the boys finally leave the bar, all of you stumbling a bit, but still coherent--mostly. Maddi catches you when you almost tip off of the curb just out front of the bar, and you giggle, righting yourself.

“S-Sorry,” you stutter out, and Maddi just shakes her head, chuckling quietly. Her mouth is tilted up just a bit on the left side, and your blurry vision tells you that she has a really cute dip at the top of her cupid’s bow. It’s not sharp, but it’s kinda tear drop shaped, and really cute. She has freckles all across her face and when she laughs her nose scrunches up, and they stand out a bit, in the dusty orange glow of the street lamps.

You can see the boys over her shoulder laughing and talking quietly, and when you bring your eyes back to her, you see that she’s looking at your lips. Instinctively, you lick them, and when you do, her bright green eyes deepen a bit, shifting from that pretty candy apple green to a dark grassy field. You like that.

She leans forward slowly, and you don't pull back any, just standing in front of her, hands latched onto her black leather jacket. You notice that her hands are on your hips, and your eyes find her's again. They're looking at you this time, and before you can think, her lips are on yours.

The kiss isn't aggressive or sloppy, as one would expect a couple of drunk girls to kiss. It’s gentle, but it has a sense of urgency to it. You can't tell if you're the gentle part or the urgent part, but you can't really bring yourself to care. Just as you're bringing your arms up wrap around Maddi’s neck, a terrible crashing noise is heard from across the street.

You both move back from each other, looking to find the source of the sound. You look out into the road, where a streetlight _had_ been, and you can see in the dim moonlight that the glass of the bulb is lying on the ground beneath the pole, shattered and glittering.

A blur sweeps past you and Maddi, and Sam and Dean are immediately reaching into the smalls of their backs, pulling out guns. Another swell of motion whooshes by, and you gasp, stepping back towards the building, flattening yourself against the wall.

When you look at Maddi, she doesn't look scared, or even worried, just annoyed. She checks her watch and sighs.

“I guess they were a bit early to the party,” she mutters before spinning on you and clamping a hand around your throat.

You shriek and claw at her wrist, immediately sobered up. She lifts you off of the ground and your feet dangle and swing. You can't see the boys--admittedly you can't see much, considering the edges of your vision are beginning to sizzle--but you hear grunting and the sounds that one would immediately assume to be a struggle.

“Y/N!” Dean’s rumbling voice shouts, and you want to yell back, but all you can manage is a strangled--no pun intended--squeak. He grunts, and you hear some kind of impact and then a thud. Maddi is yelling words over her shoulder, but with your consciousness trying to run away, you barely make out anything.

You begin to fade in and out, static creeping further and further into the sides of your eyes until all you can see are Maddi’s. They aren't green anymore.

They're black.

In a sudden fit of fear, adrenaline, and most likely delirium, you fling a foot out, hitting Maddi in the stomach, shocking her enough to drop you. At this point in the movie, the audience would be screaming at you to run, but seeing as this is real life, all you can manage to do is crawl towards the Impala on your hands and knees, wheezing like an asthmatic walrus.

You make it to the front bumper, grabbing onto Baby’s grill, not really knowing what’s happening, but knowing that you need to _move_. Your feet start working faster than your brain, and they're carrying you back into the bar, which is still unlocked. Slamming the door behind you and needlessly shoving a chair in front of it--the door opens _out_ , dumbass--you fling yourself behind the bar, searching for something to defend yourself with.

You still have no idea what’s going on or why it’s happening, but you know it’s bad. The boys are still outside, from the sound of it, and they're fighting someone--or something. You hear a few more shouts and decide that it has to be several somethings. Maddi is nowhere to be seen through the windows surrounding the bar, and you cower behind the counter, looking for, oh, I don't know, a fucking bazooka.

When all you can find is a ratty Louisville slugger, ( _don't you dare start singing, Y/N,_ you think to yourself) you stand up, putting on a brave face, and moving back towards the door. The boys are still making a lot of fighting noises and you don't really know what’s going on, but in a burst of stupidity, you throw open the door and jump back out.

Maddi is standing just in front of you, eyes onyx and glistening like marbles, a snarl on her lips.

“We were having such a nice time, babe,” she purrs, moving around you. You move your arms back, just like you learned in the three years of high school softball you participated in. “Sorry it had to go down like this,” with that she lunges forward, and as if you’re the reincarnation of Babe Ruth, you slam the bat into the side of her head, sending her flying towards the parking lot.

_Holy shit_.

With a crash, she lands on top of what you assume is her car, crushing in the windshield. Your eyes are wide as you stare at her. She begins to get up, eyes flickering almost red, and she surges forward.

You batter her head in, and, in all honesty, you don't understand why you never did this to Mike. It feels pretty efficient. Blood pours down from her hairline, and she sways on her feet. _This bitch needs to_ drop. 

Another slam of the bat to the side of her skull, and she falls, staying down this time, just groaning.

“I can't believe I thought your lips were cute,” you mutter.

“Y/N!” Dean is running up behind you, yelling, and you’re pretty sure you're about to pass out. Now that the adrenalin is draining, you think you're gonna be sick. _Did I just murder her?_

“Y/N, holy shit are you-” he stops himself, staring down at Maddi, who’s staring back up at the both of you, looking _pissed_. “Did you-” Sam cuts him off with a shout, running up and stabbing a weird carved knife into Maddi’s chest just as she begins to get up again.

You watch the whole thing, eyes wide as saucers as Sam flips his hair back and turns to you. It looks like a move that a shampoo model would dream of being able to pull off, but the blood splatters decorating his face make it look a little less “buy me”, and a little more “fear me”. You stumble backwards, tripping into Dean’s chest.

You're shaking in his arms, and your hands are still gripping the bat. Looking up into Dean’s eyes, you just shake your head, silently asking _what the fuck_. He nods sympathetically, glancing up at his brother and they come to yet another silent agreement.

“Yeah that was a bit of an introduction,” Sam mutters.

“I’ll say.”

They walk you to the Impala, and you slide into the backseat, still in what you're pretty sure qualifies as shock, and they get in as well. The bat is still in your hands, and you stare wide-eyed at the blood coating the wide end of it. Your knuckles are beginning to ache with how tight you’re holding it, but you refuse to let it go.

Sam turns around in his seat, and gently sets a hand on top of yours. You jump half a foot in the air, a strained yelp leaving your lips.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says softly. Dean’s staring at you in the rearview with those concerned green--oh my god, they look like Maddi’s.

“You okay kid?” He asks gently.

Your head shakes jerkily, and you can't tell if it's a nod or not. His eyes widen as you tilt against the door, finally releasing the bat.

“I-I think,” you open the door and lean out, finally falling into the concrete on your knees. You bring yourself to a standing position, limp over to the side of the building, and puke.

*****

The boys sit in the car silently, and just watch you. Of all the weird shit they've been through, this is one thing they’d yet to face.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean starts quietly, watching as you empty your guts onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah?”

“She stopped it,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“She knocked the bitch’s meat suit down hard enough for it to stay down, and for us to get to her.”

Sam’s eyes go wide as he turns back to stare at you, leaning against the wall with your hands on your knees. You turn to stare at the moon and pant at the sky, still shaking.

“Holy shit,” he mutters.

“She’s fucking tough,” Dean huffs out, a breathless laugh jumping into his chest. He shakes his head as you start to walk back over to the Impala, but stop, turning to walk into the bar, where you stay inside for a minute, and then walk back out, a bottle of Jack in your hands.

“You sure she ain't a Winchester?” Dean mutters as you walk back around the side of the car. Sam just shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

***

Once you finish hurling, you stand up, leaning against the wall. You give yourself another minute to get over the fact that you a) kissed a girl, b) almost got killed by her, and c) murdered said girl, you straighten up and start walking towards the impala.

_They probably think I'm fucking nutso._

You've lost the energy to be freaked out about the whole situation. I mean, they told you about some weird stuff. You just didn't think you would have to see it for a while, what with them defending you and all. At this point, you’re just tired, and fairly pissed off. _What a shit ton of luck I’ve got_ , you think bitterly. You huff and shake your head, moving back towards the car.

Right before you step off of the curb, your brow crinkles, and you turn on your heel, marching back into the bar, muttering the whole time.

“Fucking takes my gay virginity and then tries to kill me, friggin’ bitch,” your eyes are narrowed as you search the bar for something strong. Originally, you’d wanted water, but “when in hell”, am I right?

Snatching the first bottle of liquor you see off the counter, you spin back around--too fast, you might add--and shove through the doors, nearly tripping over the chair you’d thrown in front of it earlier. Stomping over to the Impala, still muttering to yourself like a loon, you pull open the door, snap on your seat belt, and unscrew the cap, immediately chugging down a decent portion of the bottle.

The boys are both staring at you, and you’re still too fucked up over your date’s attempted murder to tell if it’s in concern or shock. Glaring out the window you slide down in your seat and cross your arms over your chest like a petulant child.

“Don’t I know how to pick ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're kinda gay and really salty, congrats!

**Author's Note:**

> this is really short and probably not too good but I should have something more up by next week. I love you all so much, and thank you for understanding :'~)


End file.
